Tears From Rain
by toomuchsprite
Summary: Cal frowned. It was awfully hard to tell tears from rain. Cal/Gillian oneshot.


**Tears From Rain**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Lie to Me. . . which sucks. Go ahead. Rub it in.**

**This story was just a little bit I thought of today so I immediately typed it up the moment I got home. Review and tell me what you though and if I should throw some more Lie To Me fanfiction your way.**

Too many times had Cal Lightman been left to his own thoughts, boredom forcing his analytical and often hypercritical mind to fill the gaps of silence brought by loneliness. Such was the situation that day, when the sky became shrouded by dark clouds and wept onto the city, as if trying to cleanse the world of its inequities. The case was finished and the others had gone but something kept him rooted beneath the large Oak tree that stood ominously overlooking the deserted park. Police wrapped up the scene and were happy to get out of there—what could have been quite an ugly situation had ended without a single injury. Just another day on the job.

Faster. Harder. The rain was picking up. It was cold and encompassing with a mist that suffocated the senses. Hazel eyes squinted through the haze, searching for something he wasn't even aware of. Hands had long sense been confined to the pockets of a black overcoat, but now they itched to touch something he couldn't place. And then the realization came crashing down, his subconscious mind having kept him in that wet, cold park long after his services were needed for a reason he just now began to see.

She hadn't said goodbye, so logically his mind assumed she was still there, never leaving without a farewell. It was an unspoken promise they kept to one another and goodbyes were sacred. An easy way to gauge the sanity of a friend. A partner. To look into their eyes and see the truths their mouth wouldn't speak. There she was. A figure in the distance, but remaining nonetheless.

Cal frowned to himself, wondering if this were possible. The rain beat still harder, yet she sat on an open bench as if awaiting a ray of sunshine to poke through the clouds. If he hadn't known her better, he'd say she was upset, but she would never show such an outright state of distraught . . . would she? His feet began moving before he could process the though, carrying him out from under the tree and into the rain. He was sure he would have continued had it been fire instead of water in his way. Something was wrong.

Despite his denial—she was strong inside and out, impregnable in his eyes—the signs began to clarify as he neared. Her posture was proud as always, but her shoulder's shook a breath every few seconds. Hands were clasped in her lap and her head was bent in sorrow. It seemed as if she didn't notice the rain at all. She'd once called him a worrier and he silently agreed with her analysis. He did worry—all the time. For Emily and the rapidity at which she was growing up and away, but most of all for _her_. She was slowly losing her composure and she hadn't even realized it. But he had, for the longest time, and he feared the day had come of her realization. Alec had told her, or she had stopped lying to herself. Either way, the game of dancing around the lies had come to an abrupt end, leaving them both in the middle of a rainstorm with no umbrella.

The cold material of his shirt stuck to his skin, drenched with rain. He pushed aside his dripping hair as a peal of thunder shook the park. Still, she barely moved. Dress shoes squished against the flooding grass before coming to a stop, not two feet away from his target. Maybe he'd expected her to look up or acknowledge his presence in another way, but she didn't. She'd expected him to come, expected him not to go home the moment the case ended, even if she hadn't spoken the words aloud. She needed him to stay and this need had manifested itself as a similar need in him.

"Gillian." Before he spoke, he knew he was taking a gamble. Perhaps she wouldn't hear him over the torrential beating of the rain or maybe she would choose to ignore him. Whatever her reason though, she looked up. Cal frowned. It was awfully hard to tell tears from rain. But he didn't need them to confirm his suspicions. And he didn't need words to tell her what those tears made him feel. Thrusting out his hand, he silently asked her to take it. For his sake if nothing else. She placed her palm in his, both of them looking like a comical mess, drenched from head-to-toe without a thought to their appearance. Cal's hand tightened on hers and he wondered how she could sit in the freezing rain for so long yet remain so warm.

As he guided her toward his car, weaving between the sparse amount of remaining officers and personnel, he glanced back. Their gaze locked and she looked away, telling him all he needed to know.

_Thank you._

Cal turned ahead and squeezed her hand comfortingly.

_I'm still waiting for you._


End file.
